His Higher Calling
by MeddyGrey
Summary: Ramza uses the power of his ancestors to save his friends from perishing after the battle with Altima, and finds that he is party to something greater than he ever imagined.
1. Chapter 1

"Impossible-!"

The great Bloody Angel screamed with all of the anger of Hell itself, and as it began to shiver and crumble, leered with its last ounce of strength at the one who had perpetuated this crime, noble as it was. The young man stared back, somewhat amazed himself that he had served the deathblow to a being that he had not been sure that could be killed by any mortal being.

"Thank God, Ramza, you did it…" whispered the knight that stood at his flank. The elderman lowered his sword, albeit slightly, but to see Orlandu with his guard wavering showed an unusual amazement in the unflappable famous warrior.

Altima, the true force behind Ajora the false savior, continued to writhe about, shooting off beams of energy that its failing form could no longer contain. They shot at random angles, and were beginning to shave off pieces of the airship hull that this ultimate battle had taken place on. Panic began to erupt among some of the company as they realized the hazard that was beginning to surround them. Mustadio stood beside Alma, who was at the polar opposite side from where Ramza had struck down the Demon, and tried to make sure that the increasingly abundant wood shrapnel was not going to harm the most vulnerable person in the party.

"Alma's safe with Mustadio," Meliadoul, who had been on Ramza's other flank, assured him when she noticed that he had begun to shoot his gaze around worriedly for his sister and only remaining family member.

_No one's safe now you fool…_

Ramza heard a voice in his head, vile and hate-filled. His thoughts turned away from his comrades and back to what was left of Altima. The flesh of the being seemed to decay in front of him, but the now-blacked out eyes of the evil being seemed to look into his.

_You thought you won, and indeed, you have succeeded in banishing me to the blackness…_

Ramza looked to his side. Orlandu and Meliadoul had taken to rounding up their panicked comrades and seemed to be throwing gazes about for an exit. No way out.

_By entering my kingdom and destroying me you have doomed your 'faithful friends' into an untimely death. How unfortunate._

Mustadio approached him hurriedly, and Alma ran from the Engineer's side to embrace her brother, tears in her eyes. The voice kept speaking.

_Watch it all, you insolent worm…_

Ramza knew now that it was only speaking to him; Alma continued to cling to him for a moment longer, and then began to look around frantically, as the ground beneath them began to shake. The wooden planks splintered beneath their feet, and people leapt about, trying to keep their footing on what stable flooring they could find. Below them, spread a great nothingness, and in the distance, what had once been the tainted city was dissolving into black.

"I came prepared to die…" Ramza heard his old friend, Eric, the Ninja whisper to himself and watched him draw closer Emerald, the Summoner, who was his new wife. Ramza could make out that her lips whispered 'I love you' back to Eric as she clung to his side and prepared herself to face the same fate.

_I have a special treat for you. I'll leave you with the assurance that there is no holy light in this vastness beyond your world, that there are only more like me who will come another day_.

Ramza leered up at the black lump that was left of Altima, but it still bore the dead eyes of the being. They looked at him, and he could feel them laughing with delight.

"Ramza!!"

The flooring beneath Alma had given way at that moment, and she began to fall into the abyss. He reached out to catch her hand, and narrowly missed, screaming her name in horror. Mustadio, who had been holding on to a plank nearby held out the butt of his pistol, which Alma managed to grasp and hung by beneath them both. Alma looked up at the both of them, her eyes filled with tears.

"Alma, hold on!" Mustadio called to her desperately, and under his breath asked "Can't anyone do something?"

Ramza looked around again. Everyone was still accounted for; some were hanging on to small bits of floor, while others still stood against the brisk wind that had whipped up stronger and stronger as Altima decayed more and more. He had always led them through somehow, though bravery, through guts, through sometimes luck.

"I have no more to give… what can I do now? I've brought them to this and now what sort of leader am I? All my friends… Are to go down with me."

_With you? Oh, and that's my other little gift to you before I depart. My last act is to send you back home, safe and sound, to remember how you killed all of your friends!_

"What? NO!" Ramza finally shouted out to the now only one evil eye.

_I wish you a long life of despair, you damned mortal fool._

In an instant, the black eye shattered for all to witness and formed a cloud that churned the wind round and round. The last pieces of the hull, and all of Ramza's friends began to spin in the wind, all now clinging to a board, a hand, even a gun, desperate to hang on to that last shred of hope for safety. Ramza found himself in the eye of the cyclone, being surrounded by the last power of Altima.

_I wish you a long, excruciating life!_

_

* * *

  
_

Time stopped for Ramza, somehow. About to be 'saved' by Altima's treacherous last deed, he felt something familiar inside himself come together, felt a sudden surge of irrational hope as a memory of his father flashed into his mind:

It had been during his early youth, no more than ten years old, that noble Balbanes had taken him into a special sort of training. He had no name for these techniques, and never tried to give them any title, but Ramza had, in his childish way, referred to them as 'using your guts', mainly because these techniques relied upon faith, prayer, determination, and hope. Balbanes only explanation of the technique was that it had been handed down to him by his mentor and trainer, Torgath Ruglia, whose daughter Balbanes would marry after his first wife died in childbirth, and who was thus also grandfather to Ramza and Alma. Ramza had assumed that this was a part of Balbanes' routine training regimen, until he discovered from Balbanes towards the end of the long illness that would eventually claim the nobleman's life that the training was, in fact, special to Ramza alone.

He remembered being called into his father's study in one of the last days before his dear father's strength finally failed and left him bedridden. He found Balbanes in the great chair before the hearth, a thick robe wrapped around his quickly-declining form, the red flickers of the fire giving color to his otherwise pallid and drawn face.

"_Lord father, you called for me?"_

"_Yes, yes, dear Ramza, do sit down," Balbanes said, his voice still commanding, but growing brittle around the edges. Ramza sat in the smaller chair beside his father and looked at him with nervous intensity – it wasn't often that he was summoned to his father's most private sanctuary. It either meant that he had angered his father and was to hear his punishment, or, on a rarer occasion, that there was something of the utmost importance to discuss. Either option seeming painful for him, considering his father's declining health, Ramza sat in readied silence for Balbanes to begin._

"_I do realize that it has been for some weeks now that I have neglected our training together," Balbanes began slowly and deliberately. "However, as I look at you now, and I know the noble and true heart that beats within you, I can rest easier… I wish to tell you that your training with me is complete, and now I must pass onto you what your grandfather Torgath told me before he left this life of pain behind…"_

"_Fain! Father, you shall not be joining grandfather any time soon!" Ramza interjected, his voice nearly cracking at the thought of losing his father and mentor. _

_Balbanes smiled tiredly, "Child, am I to pass this life tomorrow or in one hundred years, whose place is that to know? I have chosen to finish your training today, so that whatever befalls me tomorrow I may at least have finished this one thing in my life. Now, if I may have no more interruptions, however well-meaning," he gave Ramza a patient but adamant look that he had given all of his sons many times over his years as a father. Ramza sat up straighter in his chair, and nodded, ready to listen._

"_Ramza, dear son, what I have taught you over the years is indeed unique to the Ruglia family. Although they are considered 'lowborn', there is a tradition and noble spirit amongst their clan that I would consider more noble than any of the titled gentry; a clan of incorruptible knights and heroes of the lowly. Unfortunately, most of your kin, as you know, have fallen during the last two wars this century, leaving only the line of your grandfather, Torgath, via his only daughter…" he paused in the way he often would when he remembered Maria, Ramza's mother, who had died shortly after Alma was born._

"_In many ways, Torgath saw me as the son he never had, and taught me nigh all of his traditional combat forms, all but their secret. However, the day that I asked for your mother's hand in marriage, he rejoiced to be able to pass on the last of his training, as he was advanced in years and knew it unlikely that he would live to pass these things to you himself, which, as you know is how it did come to pass._

"_So here we are now, my child, and it is time for you to know of the endgame of the Ruglia's unique abilities. You shall, as you mature and continue to adhere to the disciplines of your training, find that your stature as a knight will grow and strengthen, and that many more skills of naught but your heart and faith shall become known to you, but fain should it come that ever you reach the pinnacle of this power. Master Torgath explained to me that I am incapable of the ultimate technique of his training because the blood of the Ruglia clan does not run through my veins. But it does you._

"_I know naught of what this power truly is, he only described it as 'a potent of the miraculous that only a pure heart of despair and fiercest love can attain.' But his highest hope was that his beloved grandson would never find himself in such a place where there was naught left but the faintest glimmer of a righteous hope, for he warned that you would come to understand the price of such a miracle. This was all that he could tell; he himself, of course, had never come to this power, but was adamant that the awareness of this burden, be it legend, be it true, must be passed down the family line, as he put, 'so the hero may be truly heroic.'" _

_Here Balbanes stopped and looked over to his son to search the boy's face in response to this revelation. Ramza looked thoughtful, but grave, his eyes staring off into the fire before them._

"_Ramza, son," Balbanes began again, Ramza's attention snapped back to his father where he could now see the emotion that the old man was spilling over with, eyes shining with barely-contained tears, "It pains me to burden you with this knowledge, but I pray, as your grandfather before you, that fate will never place you in such a place where only a miracle can be hoped for… May it be that your training in these mysterious things shall only serve to make a great and noble man of you. That, I have no doubt of, and have no doubt that you shall do my name proud, as well as that of your mother."_

"_Father…" Ramza murmured, his own eyes awash of tears now, and then threw himself to his father's side, embracing him as the child he was quickly growing out of. "Father, I shall be a credit to all you are and have taught to me. Never shall I shame your name! Never."_

"_Ramza…" Balbanes placed a hand upon his son's head, seeing much of himself in the boy, and found a sense of peace that he had impacted this young, noble life._

The memory flashed by in but a second, but it was long enough that he understood – without reason, without thought -- he knew what he had to do. It was instinct to him; it was a part of him to his very fiber, as was his knowledge of the price of such an action. But that did not hold him back for even one second: these friends of his, loyal, true, wonderful people without whom none of this triumph would have been possible were the only matter in his mind now.

His heart ached for them. The swelling of the secret power within him grew.

So much love among them: Eric and Emerald, just married not two months ago even amidst strife and combat. Alberto and Alyssa, brother and sister, friends of his since their first days at the Gariland academy, their family lost in the Fifty Year's War, finally found a new family amongst their brothers in arms. Agrias, the loneliness of her existence before was but a distant memory now. Mustadio, buoyant and clever, and as great a friend as Ramza had since he and Delita were small. Beowulf and Reis, a love that conquered separation of distance and a dire enchantment, and now they had found a safe place to remain among new friends. Meliadoul, still mourning the brother she felt that she failed and just beginning to trust her new friends after the abuse and betrayal of her devious and violent father. And even Count Orlandu, given up his position of nobility and power to fight for the truth, like the godfather of this troupe.

They were soon to perish in this netherworld. Such despair within his heart, despair and love.

And finally, Alma. The only blood kin left to him, the one person that he had promised to his dying father that he would take care of. The one person that he had strived so hard to save, to return to life to live with a future and hope. Dear sister, his friend and ally since the day she had been born, so strong and intelligent. And she was all but lost now.

The pain and wretchedness burned within his chest, merging with the familiar power of his special training. He hoped. It was all he had left. This one desperate, irrational hope was all that stood between letting his friends die here alone and the one possibility of sending them to safety, and to do so before Altima could send him away to live on, alone with their deaths on his hands for eternity.

A single tear escaped his eye as his despair, his hope, his love, and the latent power merged inside his chest.

For a split second, there was nothing. No feeling, like he had suddenly become empty of everything, no sound, no motion. And it only made the excruciating burning that ripped from his core all the more intolerable when it exploded forth from him in an intense golden light.

The light absorbed the accursed magic Altima had set upon Ramza, merged with its intention and then burst from his hands like fireballs in all directions, spinning with the already chaotic vortex that threatened to consume them. Ramza could barely see the astonished looks on everyone's faces over the light and intense, draining pain that overtook his form, then as each burst of energy found a person, it flashed and their form was instantly gone in the unmistakable shimmer of a transportation spell.

He laughed above the anguish in his body as he knew that the miracle had occurred as each of his friends, his family, winked out of the swirling abyss back to the world of men; laughed that the miracle had taken the final cruelty of Altima and twisted it into something good.

He laughed still with all of the joy in his heart when he saw Alma's face, the last to remain, brighten with the flash of energy and vanish with her mouth in the middle of calling his name out to him.

He laughed as he heard the dying cry of anger as the thwarted Altima faded into the nothingness.

And in that blackest of places, as Ramza could feel the last of the miraculous energy leave behind a throbbing, aching hollowness within his body, even as he no longer had the energy to laugh, joy still overcame him – the joy of the salvation of his friends in the face of certain doom.

He did not fret or fight at the fading of his consciousness, as he knew and welcomed the price he must pay for daring to use the rare power that he possessed.

"_I only wish that I could have seen them safe with my own eyes…_" was his last passing thought as his mind faded into an easy darkness and his body's pain washed away.

A last white spark flickered in the nothingness, and the form of Ramza Beoulve disappeared as well in a wash of light. The abyss was left to its own emptiness.


	2. Chapter 2

Alma was sure that she was dead.

She knew that, although they had defeated Ajora, or whatever that horrible Lucavi demon called itself. And of course, it was only fitting to have to 'go down with the ship'. There had been a bright light – she had always heard that when you are passing on you see a bright light that leads to the afterlife. Now she was just wondering, as her thoughts mused, when or if she was to be able to see those who had gone on before her, like her mother, who she had never really met, or father, or Teta. She felt as if she were lying prone, and with her eyes closed… She wondered that she needed to open her eyes, or whatever she had now that she was no longer alive, to see what her afterlife looked like. Or not. She didn't really feel like exiting the warm darkness that she was floating through.

"Alma… Alma, you OK?"

She felt like she was being shaken, and her eyes opened without her consent. Suddenly sitting bolt straight up, she nearly knocked heads with Mustadio, who still had his hands on her shoulders. Gasping, she looked around her, looked down at her hands – she was as she had been before, battle worn, but now she knew: somehow she had survived and had merely been unconscious.

"Mustadio… how?" she looked around herself, confused as she had ever been. Exotic but beautiful trees surrounded them, large and imposing, reaching up far to the pale morning sky, and the ground was a soft thatch of the needles and bark shed from them. She saw around her all of Ramza's contingency – some, like Count Orlandu, already afoot and trying their best to check the health of those still coming around, others, like Meliadoul who was some yards to her left, still sat on the ground and appearing as bewildered as she, wondering how exactly they had escaped the netherworld that they had all but resigned themselves to perishing within.

Her memory was fuzzy, jumbled – so much chaos had erupted within the battle and at the destruction of Altima. A flash of light… she called her brother's name and then… she woke up here.

"Ramza," she whispered, and looked to Mustadio's weary and blood-smeared face, her eyes looked into his with a mutually understood question.

"I saw him too, right before the light took me," Mustadio said to her, kneeling down beside her and gathering her into his arms to embrace her in relief. "Thank God… Alma, I'm so glad you're ok… I thought that we were all done for, and when I found you, you were so still…"

"I cannot express my relief as well," she said, the reality of their last-second salvation sinking into her mind and filling her with emotion, and she embraced the engineer back with a great urgency.

"Is he here too? I have not seen him amongst our friends," she whispered into his ear before their arms parted, and she could see the look of concern and disappointment in his blue eyes. He shook his head and looked down. He heard her sniffle, and looked up to find her crying already.

"No, no, Alma, don't do that," he said gently, bringing a finger to wipe a tear off of her cheek, "You shall rest here while those of us who are less battered shall form a search party. Some of us have been scattered about these woods, so do not give up hope yet!"

"I… I just know that he saved us," she said, still sniffling, "And something inside me knows that what he did… I cannot lose this feeling that he has saved us at his own detriment! Mustadio, I fear he is lost forever!" She buried her face into her hands with a sob. The engineer gathered her to her chest again, and rubbed her shoulders.

"Alma… shh, hold those tears; we have all experienced the miraculous this day, and so we should not lose faith that perhaps your dear brother may have had his own miraculous escape. Come now, are you tired still? Now look," he pointed to his right, "Beowulf and Reis have begun to pitch a shelter, no doubt so they can help see to the weary and wounded. Do you think that you could hold back your fears and rest your tired body while I gather a swift party to search for your brother."

Alma looked into the man's earnest face, wanting to fight his logic and go frantically searching for Ramza herself, but… her limbs ached and felt rubbery, and her head throbbed, most likely from the stress of being under duress for so many weeks, culminating in being possessed by what was possibly the most evil being on the planet and managing to fight off its presence. And now that she thought about it, she was having trouble keeping her eyes open.

"Alright…" she nodded to Mustadio in defeat, who smilingly picked her up to take her to the shelter. "But you must find me as soon as you return with whatever news your bring, be it good or bad…" she said with a thin voice.

"You shall be the first to know of our findings. I have no intention of leaving you with a false hope, just don't give up before you know if all is lost," he assured her with another tempered smile. After that moment, he felt her form relax into his thin arms, and by the time he had crossed the short distance to the forming pavilion, she had already drifted into an exhausted sleep.

Having left Alma in the tender care of Reis, always gentle and easy with the wounded and weary, who had tucked her into a blanket and mat in the canopied shelter before she went to attend to Alberto and Agrias, both of whom had suffered greatly during the last battles in Murond Death City, Mustadio left with haste to seek out the three people he thought would be best to help him search for Ramza: Emerald the Summoner, for her connection with the spirits of nature and her healer's skills; Eric the Ninja for his speed and awareness; and Orlandu for his wisdom and tracking expertise, one of the many things that he had become known for in the Fifty Years War.

The small search party set out not thirty minutes after Mustadio had left Alma, having received no quarrel or questioning as to the reasonability of such a proposal, nor any complaint as to their own need for rest, as there was not one amongst their band that had not been worn to the bone by the last three days of their journeys. Many had witnessed the intense light that had sprung forth from their young leader at the end of the last battle right before a strange and powerful magic transported them to safety, and those who hadn't seen believed the testimonies of their comrades, and therefore truly wanted to find Ramza if he were here to be found. However, each agreement had been laced with an undertone that they knew this search would come up empty. After all, at this point, everyone else had been accounted for and arrived in no worse condition than they had left. Were Ramza here, most felt that he would have already found them himself.

Mustadio turned most of the strategy over to Orlandu once he had gathered the group together, and the old tactician went right to work. He began by having Emerald listen to the forest spirits for any signs of human presence, and chose three of the most promising directions in which he would have the three men venture out to find, with Emerald remaining at the base point to guide them back via another summoned forest sprite attuned to her magics. Eric was quick enough to cover twice the ground that Mustadio and Orlandu could in the same amount of time, though Orlandu had a much sharper eye for details and changes in the land around him that could indicate a human presence. At this point, Mustadio felt a little like he was the weakest link in this group, but nonetheless kept searching as doggedly as anyone could. He wanted desperately to not to have to return to Alma empty handed and watch her crumble under the grief. He himself did not want to have to accept that his friend was truly lost.

It was fast approaching midday and the group of four was growing very tired and had covered a large portion of the forest around them, discovering a wild river, a picturesque subalpine meadow, and much of the local wildlife, but no signs of Ramza.

"It seems," Orlandu began, stretching his stiffening back with his arms up over his head, "that there is some human presence nearby. We've all found more and more evidence of human activity, especially lost arrows, no doubt from game hunting. I would go so far as to say there is a village of some sort nearby."

"I would agree, Count, for the local spirits are active in a way that I have seen more often in human settlements," Emerald agreed, wiping the sweat away from her forehead below her horned headband with the back of her hand, "Likely to the east of us, though I am not sure of the distance. This may throw off our strategy now, and I am sure you were about to make the same conclusion?"

Orlandu nodded. Mustadio looked between the elderman and the Summoner, a frantic feeling seeping into him at the looks of resignation that was forming on their faces. A moment later, Eric appeared in a rush, stopping abruptly when he realized that he was back at his starting point again and proceeded to lean forward, bracing his hands on his knees, panting with the effort of so many forays out and back again.

"Eric?" Mustadio asked, his voice betraying the anxiety that he was trying to keep at bay. The ninja simply shook his head as he continued to try to catch his breath, while his wife drew to his side and rubbed his back for comfort.

"Damn… damn!" Mustadio finally let his frustration and emotions get the better of him, and he kicked at the ground, sending sticks flying in all directions.

"It was a valiant effort, young friend," Orlandu spoke in calming and deep authoritative tones, placing a hand on Mustadio's shoulder when he saw the tears welling in the engineer's eyes. "We all wanted to see him again, but… whatever unknown power the boy invoked to send us all back, I have the suspicion was not designed for the benefit of the caster… and he was already quite injured from the preceding battle. You gave it your best, as you know he would have done for any of us, but I believe it is time to return to camp."

"Damn… damn, damn, damn…" Mustadio repeated beneath the strained tears, not turning back to see the fatherly look of sympathy on Count Orlandu's face, nor whatever sadness had solidified in Eric and Emerald. The only face he could see right now was Alma's, with her mouth contorted into such a woebegone shape and her eyes almost maddened with tears and inconsolable grief as she had been when she feared her brother lost completely.

"I have some rations on me for the hike back – some rest with our meal should do us some good after our searching," Eric said, producing some dried meat and hard biscuits from his hip satchel and offered bits of them to the other three, though Mustadio stubbornly refused all but a bite of the tasteless pastry and washed it down with a gulp from his nearly-dry canteen, and continued to stare off into the distant forest, his mind tortured with his own loss and the vision of Alma's face while the rest of them sat and slowly ate their meal in somber silence.

After some minutes had passed, Mustadio heard the rustling of his companions getting back to their feet and readying themselves for the trip back, and sighed inwardly – he would stay planted in that spot forever if he could only spare Alma the bad news. At this point, he mused, a body or some solid evidence of death would be better than this highly remote possibility of Ramza being safe and alive somewhere, an end better than just a hypothesis. Either way, this was the situation he was left in – no hope of finding his friend, and the lack of closure he knew Alma would feel with this conclusion.

"Come now, Mustadio, it's time that we left this place. There is a familiarity of the flora and fauna of this forest that makes me think that we may be in the lands bordering Ivalice and Ordalia, and I am not, at this point, ready to discover whether or not that settlement ahead is friendly towards Ivalacians," Orlandu said with another pat to Mustadio's shoulder. This time, Mustadio was ready and turned to follow the old knight back the way they had come.

He paused, though, and looked up to the serene, cloud-dotted sky above the wisping tree branches. "Good-bye, Ramza, wherever you are now," he murmured, then moved forward to follow behind Eric and Orlandu.

They had gone but a few yards when Mustadio thought he heard a voice from the distance and stopped dead in his tracks to listen. Emerald stopped behind him and looked at him with concern.

"Mustadio, are you—"

"Shh!" he hissed, raising a hand to her, much to the summoner's irritation at his sudden rudeness. He listened longer, long enough that Eric and Orlandu noticed that they were not being followed anymore and backtracked to where Mustadio stood silent and looking keenly around him for any motion.

"Thought I heard a man's voice," he whispered to the other men, who proceeded to stand still and listen with him. Another few minutes passed, and finally Mustadio dropped his head in disappointment for what seemed like the thousandth time that day.

"Never mind… I must be going nuts; hearing things," he muttered and nodded to Orlandu to continue leading the way back when they all heard a very distinct yell of:

"Halloo? I am in need of assistance! Halloo?"

"We may all be going mad now, Mustadio, but I rather agree that you did hear that!" Orlandu replied to the young engineer in whisper. "However, that is not our friend Ramza's voice off in the distance, and lord knows if he is friend or foe, so fain, do not call back yet!"

The old knight crouched below the level of the brush around them and the other three followed suit, all peering in the direction that the voice had come from.

"Halloo! I know I heard voices from this way! Please do not be alarmed – I am but the local herbalist and holy man, and I mean no harm! Halloo?"

The voice was getting closer, and none of them at this point in time trusted anyone who called himself a 'man of god' or anything close to that title; in fact, it made them ready to defend themselves all the more. Finally, he was close enough that they could see his sandaled feet poke out from behind a great tree trunk, but also that Emerald's latent empathic skills could sense the man's aura, and it struck her powerfully as a surprise.

"My word," she whispered loud enough for the three men around her to hear, "I haven't felt such a clean spirit in so long… Surely, there is not a mage I know that can imitate such a benevolent aura – I do not think this man is a threat to us!"

They could see him fully now: a tall, slender man dressed in the simple linens of a monk, tied at the waste with nothing but a leather thong, clean-shaven, dark brown hair that was in need of a trim, and the appearance of being on the high end of thirty. He carried nothing with him, not even a staff, save small cloth pouches tied to his belt.

"We shall be found out either way, as we cannot make a retreat without being seen now. Ready to subdue him if needed – we cannot have him become startled and cause a stir in the village he has come from," Orlandu cautioned, and then when he had the nods of his companions, was the first to stand from their hiding place with the others but a second behind.

The monk noticed them right away and smiled with relief. "Thank heavens!" he exclaimed, and noted that they were unfamiliar to him with a look of scrutiny. "Pray, you are not from the village. I hope to hear that you may be friendly visitors?" he asked delicately, his eyes darting between Orlandu's giant Excalibur, Eric's dual ninja knives, Mustadio's gun, and the Summoner's horn on Emerald's headband.

"Indeed, we mean no harm," Orlandu began cautiously, still ready to chase if the monk took off, "we are but… refugees from the strife in the land of Ivalice, seeking rest from the endless warring, and no homes of our own to return to. Us four are merely a scouting party as the rest of our troupe is making camp for the day. We hope to find no ill will in these parts to Ivalacians who seek respite from their tainted homeland?"

They all relaxed a little when they saw the monk smile peacefully. "Of course, we hold no men in ill will as long as they return the sentiment. I also sense a goodness in each of you that puts me at ease. We are a small mountain community neither affiliated with Ordalia nor with Ivalice, as it has been for centuries, and you are not the first who have trekked through here looking for a safe haven from the last war, though most have moved on deeper into Ordalia once their Ivalacian accents had mellowed enough to go unnoticed. In fact, I was calling to you in need of assistance. You see, I was out in this wood as I do many times a week to gather medicinal herbs, when I stumbled across another Ivalacian refugee, a young knight fallen unconscious right in my favorite foxweed patch! He is still unconscious and in need of more care than I am capable of with the mismatched herbs I have on hand… and he has proven to be far too heavy for me to carry back to the monastery on my own, and I was hoping another hand or two—"

The monk found himself suddenly beset by the young engineer with a wild look of anticipation on his face and his hands set onto his shoulders with urgency. "Where is he? Does he look about my age, with messy blond hair and blue steel armor? Please, you must tell me!"

Mustadio was nearly shaking the startled monk, who tried his best to remain composed as the other three were closing in on him as well, albeit with their weapons undrawn, but it was intimidating all the same.

"I- I- Indeed! You describe him well! Might he be one of your compatriots?" he stuttered out to Mustadio.

"Take us to him, now, please!" Mustadio nearly shouted, with emphatic nods from Eric and Emerald behind him.

"Yes, come, he is not far, but down a sheltered ravine's bed," the monk said, disconnection Mustadio's hand from his tunic then urgently moving his sandaled feet as fast as they would go, "But that, like I said is where the foxweed grows tall and succulent, but is also home to many wild beasts, and I did not want to risk straying far from the boy lest some creature come and take him in my absence! I was so relieved to hear human voices so deep into the woods, like a sign from above!"

He led them some ten minutes down a winding path into a very well-hidden ravine, though it was far enough off in the direction towards the village that Emerald's forest spirit guides had not been able to distinguish between the monk and Ramza from the rest of the human 'scent' coming from that direction. And when they reached the bottom, Mustadio could not believe his eyes: for there, after all this effort, was Ramza, lying with his head and back propped against the slope of the ravine looking worn and pale. The engineer immediately notice the slow rise and fall of his chest signified that he was alive, and his heart practically leapt within his chest.

"On the name of all that is holy and good! Ramza, we found him!" Mustadio exclaimed, falling to his knees at his friend's side, and looked up to the monk, "We had all but given up hope of finding him, and here he was, just outside of where we thought was just too far to be reasonable… another miracle has happened today, and sir monk, you have been the harbinger of such thing. Thank you," he exclaimed with tears freely flowing from his eyes.

"Mustadio, if I could?" Emerald asked gently, her hands already glowing with the White Magic that was her secondary magical training. The engineer nodded, and moved aside to allow Emerald to work her spell, and he could hear her softly chanting the complex words of the 'Arise' magic, the strongest revival magic that a white mage could learn.

The monk's eyes widened as he observed the highly adept skills of the summoner before him. "Thank the Lord that you are a skilled healer as well! Though I have come to a faith deep and abiding, and my herblore knowledge is extensive, the powers of magical healing have never been an art that my lowly mind has been able to make sense of beyond the very basic healing spell."

"You give yourself no credit, good monk," Emerald replied, having finished her incantation, but still visibly concentrating on directing the spell with hands aglow over Ramza's prone form, "I sensed the presence of your basic cure spell – well crafted, stable. You may have given our dear friend just enough aid to bring him back from the brink of death."

"You are too kind, milady," he replied, though blushing lightly near his ears. "I see that this young fellow is very dear to your group, is he not?"

"We are a close-knit band," Mustadio replied, though not looking away from Ramza's form, "Each person is important to us after all that we have been through. But to speak for myself alone, this man has been the most trusted and dear friend that I have had."

"Be you of the Church of Glabados?" Orlandu interjected, his face still carrying a light smile, though his eyes were, as always, wary and calculating.

_Good question, Count,_ Mustadio though with a glance to the monk at his side, _we cannot trust him if that is so_.

"Glabados? No, no, no!" the monk said, his face suddenly turned into a look of shock and disgust, "I assure you, I have nothing to do with that Ivalacian cult. My faith is of the One Lord and none else," he emphasized, though any overtures of religious belief fell flat before these people after all they had experienced recently. "Although," he backtracked, fearing that he may have insulted someone, "Be that your faith, I hold you in no contempt for disagreeing with you…"

Orlandu's stance relaxed noticeably – there would be no 'heretic' chasing here. "No offense taken, surely, good monk – we have no ties with their faith or organization; I was merely curious," he lied, though the monk took him at his word.

"There…" Emerald said, her voice sounding strained from effort, but satisfied, "The spell is complete, but I must caution that even with such magic, he is still in a very fragile state. I anticipate that from here forward, rest, time, and more traditional forms of healing may be the only remedies for the insults his body has taken."

"Is it safe for us to bear him to camp?" Eric asked his wife, standing behind her.

"I would say that moving him to shelter will be no less detrimental then leaving him here, and… oh!" the summoner's face washed with a smile, "I do believe I saw him move his head – he's coming to!"

Indeed, as the rest of them turned their attention to Ramza, they all could see now that he was weakly attempting to move his head from side to side, and the lids of his eyes flickered and winced. A low groan escaped his lips, then, ever so slowly, his eyes opened, though to mere slits, and his hazel irises slowly moved back and forth, focusing slowly, confusedly taking in the faces before him.

"Ramza, oh thank god," Mustadio whispered, again down at his friend's side, "Ramza, can you hear me? You're fine, and amongst friends!"

The blond warrior's eyes opened a hairbreadth's more and took a moment staring into Mustadio's face before it registered to him exactly who it was kneeling over him.

"M… Mustadio…?" Ramza barely whispered, strained and thin. "Did… it fail? You… dead… too?"

The engineer's head shook back and forth resolutely, smiling down on his friend. "No, not at all, Ramza! I'm quite alive, as is every one else! You got us all out, safe and sound. See, Count Orlandu, Eric and Emerald are here too, and the rest of the party is camped not an hour away. And you have made it too, survived along with us – there will be such rejoicing tonight!"

Ramza's expression, though still bleary and exhausted, lightened to the closest approximation of a smile he could manage. "Alma?"

"She is there, resting well, and awaiting news of your whereabouts."

"Excellent…" Ramza breathed, and looked thoughtful for a moment, then added, "Are you sure… I am not dead?"

Mustadio laughed and smiled, as did the other three, "Yes, we are quite sure. I would certainly hope that once on the other side one would not have to suffer the constraints of a spent and wounded body thusly."

"Ah. Good point," Ramza replied, with another almost-smile, though now he looked as if he was fighting off the urge for sleep, as his eyelids kept falling shut of their own doing.

"Come now, Mustadio, let's not talk what little strength he has away from him, and the sooner we get him settled and fed the better," Count Orlandu said to the engineer, who nodded to him in return.

"Indeed, 'tis an hour's walk from where we are now back to our encampment," Eric added, peering up the side of the ravine and taking note of the easiest way back up, "Mayhap, Count, would you think it wise that we remove the Commander's armor before we bear him back? I am sure that it nigh doubles his weight, and it shall make the way much easier."

Orlandu assessed the value of what was left of Ramza's once-fine armor: the breastplate was gone entirely, and even his shirt torn to the skin, with nothing covering his chest and swordarm, likely ripped off when he received the three great claw-wounds across his right chest and shoulder that were still bloody, but fading slowly into healing red lines with Emerald's spell. Much of the rest of it seemed… almost warped and singed, as if the heat and force of the magic that Ramza had produced to teleport them away was great enough to ruin the metal.

"I would call it ruined, though I am no metalsmith. We should discard all but his sword," the old knight looked down at the fallen young commander, seeing that he had already drifted back into a deep sleep, "I'm sure he would not object."

"If I may," the monk spoke softly to Eric and Mustadio, who had both begin to unstrap what was left of Ramza's war armor, "You said that your encampment was an hour from here, at least? If I could extend the charity, the monastery where I live is but a thirty-minute walk, far on the edge of the village you should know, as I understand your hesitation about… upsetting villagers."

They looked at him skeptically, though each at some point wondering when they had become so distrustful of those offering help, then looked to each other, silently, unsure of what to think.

"It is small, no doubt, and humble, but there are two rooms with beds and a hearth, that may be more suitable for your injured friend – or any others of your company in need of extra care. Oh – and my herbs! Surely, please, I have many preparations for all sorts of ailments," he said, sounding excited even to have a use for his craft.

"And what do you gain in this endeavor?" Eric asked, the mistrust on his voice palpable, though this was a usual way with the ninja.

"'Tis the calling of my Lord to aid those in time of need. To turn away a stranger is akin to turning my Lord Himself away to the cold. Indeed, I would even invite your entire band, though I have room for no more than six at the most inside, but there is a fallow field at the far end of the property, where you are welcome to pitch your camp for as many of you as you like."

"And again," Eric asked, "what must we pay you in return?"

"Please, it is payment in full for my soul to aid those in need. And, if you need a baser reason than that," that last portion added almost under the monk's breath, "as it seems you are untrusting of one who has no ulterior motive, I am often quite solitary being so far from the town center, and the company of my fellowman would bring a light to my heart."

"Erm…" Eric still balked, only to have his lively wife step in front of him with a scowl at her doubtful man.

"Good monk, we are not all as suspicious as my husband here," she glared again at the ninja, who now sulked with his arms crossed for being censured by his wife in front of the other men, though this was far from the first time. "I, as a healer, should not pass up the offer of a roof and a warm bed for my patient. Unless there is a legitimate objection," she paused and looked earnestly at Mustadio and Orlandu, both of them shaking their heads, "we shall gladly take advantage of your kind charity for Sir Ramza, but I'm sure the rest of the invitation shall need to be discussed more thoroughly."

_And why she never trained to be a mediator, I shall never know_, Mustadio mused as he finished unclasping the last portion of Ramza's armored boot and threw it to the side with the rest of the pile that resembled the leavings of a giant lobster dinner.

With Eric and Orlandu's help, Mustadio heaped the much lighter armor-less Ramza onto his back, and Ramza was in such a deep slumber that the movement only served to cause him to stir his head a little, then place it in a more comfortable spot on his friend's back.

"Please… dear me, in our haste I do not believe that we asked for the courtesy of you name, sir monk," Mustadio said, somewhat embarrassed at their lack of simple etiquette.

"'Tis nothing at all, no harm done. The name is Fadriac," the monk said good-naturedly.

"Well, good Fadriac, do lead the way," Mustadio asked earnestly. The monk nodded and began off to the east with a meaningful but gentle pace.


End file.
